


Something Sweet, A Peach Tree

by ithinkyourewonderful



Series: Home With You [1]
Category: Ratched (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26711137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithinkyourewonderful/pseuds/ithinkyourewonderful
Summary: “That’s ridiculous.” Mildred snaps, unable to comprehend why Gwen would risk herself like that.“That’s love.” Gwen responds, standing in front of Mildred, unflinching under her scrutinising gaze. She knows the other woman is searching for an edge, an angle, something to explain Gwen’s devotion to her, but there is none. There is simply one woman in love with another, in spite of every terrible, horrific act she’s done.
Relationships: Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched
Series: Home With You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016083
Comments: 38
Kudos: 153





	Something Sweet, A Peach Tree

**Author's Note:**

> My humble offering to the 'what happens after the kiss' collection of stories.

  


* * *

  
Mildred thought it would be like fire, being touched by someone who loves her in _that_ way but it wasn’t. No, it was more that every inch of her skin that Gwen touched, or kisses, or even looked at came to life - painfully and cruelly. Her body and her mind had always been two vastly distanced parts of herself until Gwen’s touch. 

A hand on her wrist. Pinkies entwined. Shoulders brushing. Blood running through her fingers, palm upon breast.

All of it a spark and now, now it felt like she was being dragged, kicking and screaming into her own body until they were once again united. 

It was too much. Too bright. Too much touch and too much pain. 

Too much love. 

It hurts, exquisitely and deliciously, and she wants more of it and less, if she’s honest with herself. She’s scared of what else she can feel now that she can feel, now that she does feel. She feels Gwen’s fingers on her back through the silk of her blouse, she can feel their legs bumping inelegantly against each other as they continue their kiss. 

One of them thinks their heart can’t take any more and they pull away. Both woman begin to breathe again, taking in lungfuls of fresh air as they drift back, but not far from the other. One of them reaches an arm out and the other clasps it, as if after everything, they cannot be apart from each other now, not even for a moment. “Does it always feel like this?” Mildred asks, her eyes shining and wild, looking to Gwen for reassurance. “No.” Gwen takes another lungful of air, eyes glassy and dazed, “It most assuredly does not.”  
“Oh.” Mildred blushes, her mind whirling.  
“My darling girl, I’ve made a mess of you.” Gwen smiles, placing a gentle hand on the other woman’s cheek, brushing away the remnants of the earlier tears with a gentle thumb. “I must look awful.” Mildred comments, embarrassed.  
“You could never. You just look like a woman in love.”  
“I suppose I am.” She beams up at Gwen. “I love you, I do.”  
“And I love you.”  
“Well isn’t that a coincidence?” They grin at each other, dazed and amazed before their mouths find their way back to each other.

“I suppose I should get cleaned up?” Mildred finally says, her mind catching up to her body. She needs a moment. She needs to regroup and to think. She needs to put herself back together for Gwen. “Why?” Gwen asks, “I’m just going to muss you up again?”  
“All the more reason for me to remove what’s left my lipstick. Though you already did a fair enough job for me.” She grins. She can’t stop grinning. Neither of them can. “The powder room is just down the hall and to the left.” Gwen directs. “Can I make you some coffee? Or tea?”  
“Is this a real question this time?”  
“Yes.” Gwen drawls, placing a tender kiss on the top Mildred’s forehead.  
“Some coffee would be nice, yes.”  
“Well then.”

They don’t break their stance though. They just…stand there, grinning at each other and staring, both afraid that they’ll never get this moment again. A car backfires and both women flinch. The spell broken. “I’ll get started on that coffee,” Gwen begins, moving towards the kitchen, Mildred moving with her so their contact doesn’t break. “Do you have work today?”  
“No, I don't.”  
“Oh.” Gwen tries to tamp down her excitement. “Do you have any plans?”  
“I’m all yours.”  
“All mine?”  
“Unless-” Mildred drops Gwen’s arm suddenly, “You have plans? I’m sorry, I didn’t ev-”  
“Mildred, Mildred, it’s fine.” Her hand finds the other woman’s and gives it a squeeze. “I could’ve had an appointment with the President and I’d have canceled for you.”  
“But he’s the President!”  
“And you’re Mildred Ratched, and I would much rather spend my time with you. The powder room’s right through here.” Somehow they ended up right where they meant to be, but Mildred can’t help but feel surprised. What is happening to her? She feels drunk but she hasn’t had anything to drink. She feels like she’s floating but also tied down to her body. She feels… She doesn’t know what she feels. This can’t be love, can it? Either she had a very faulty understanding of Love, or this is a completely other sensation. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” Gwen squeezes her hand. “Take your time.” And with that, the other woman lets go of her hand and disappears into the back of the house.

Mildred enters the powder room and is surprised at what she sees. How could Gwen love her, looking as she does? Her lipstick is smeared, her eyes and cheeks both puffy and red, her lips swollen. She takes a wad of toilet paper and begins to try to remove what’s left of her lipstick, when she’s done, she carefully begins to press some cold water on her face to try to cool the flush but it doesn’t seem to help. She’s so warm. Why is she so warm? She admits to herself that she may be out of her depth and being out of her depth terrified her. Out of her depth meant out of control. Her breathing begins to pick up. When she woke up this morning, she hadn’t planned on this. No, not in the least. She planned on driving to Gwen’s, confessing her love, perhaps a chase kiss or two, not whatever that was. That was…something else. Something completely - her mind begins to reel but before it spirals too far, there’s a gentle knock at door. “Darling, coffee’s ready.” Mildred wants to leave, she wants to go away, she wants to be alone, she wants for none of this to have happened, and yet, when she opens the door and sees Gwen leaning on the wall across from the bathroom, concerned, but smiling, she finds herself burying herself in the other woman’s arms. “Hey now, hey. It’s ok. You’re ok. You’re ok, aren’t you?” Gwen coos gently, her hands gently rubbing her back, soothing her. “You’re ok.” She repeats over and over again, as if a mantra, as if her saying it enough could make it true. “I am, I’m fine. I’m sorry.”  
“Don’t be sorry, you should see what I’m like without my coffee.” Gwen jokes lightly. “You are though, aren’t you?”  
“I will be - this is all just…” She swallows.  
“A lot?”  
“Yes. And you’re handling it so well and here I am…”  
“Handling it beautifully. But can I confess?” She drops her voice into a whisper, “Inside I am _terrified_.”  
“Of?”  
“Everything.” Gwen smiles, but it’s sad, and it’s scared and it breaks Mildred’s heart.  
“Of me?”  
“Everything.” She repeats. “But if you can do this, I can do this.” Mildred nods, and then smiles, reaching a hand out to Gwen’s hair. “Your hair, it’s down.”  
“Oh yeah, I didn’t bother putting it up this morning.”  
“It’s so pretty down, you should wear it down more often.”  
“Oh yeah?” She blushes. “Come on, our coffee is getting cold.”

They take their coffee outside on the patio set. Mildred looks around at her options of where to sit and visibly uncertain. “Here, beside me,” Gwen motions for her to join her on the wicker three seater. “The neighbours can’t see over the trees,” She gently explains. “Trevor and I made very certain of that.” Mildred gathers her skirt and sits beside Gwen. She takes a sip of coffee and then begins to laugh. “What’s so funny?”  
“Thirty minutes ago we were kissing like newlyweds and now here we are sipping coffee as if it’s the most normal and natural thing in the world.”  
“Why shouldn’t it be normal?” Gwen asks, slipping her free hand into Mildred’s, “Love should be the most normal thing in the world.”  
“And yet it feels…extraordinary.” She takes a deep breath and raises her face to the sun and takes a deep breath. This is the closest to peace she can remember feeling.  
“The neighbours grow peaches.” Gwen explains, answering the question Mildred didn’t even know she had.  
“Peaches.” Mildred smiles, and takes another deep inhale. “I can fall asleep it’s so restful here.”  
“So do it.”  
“I couldn’t.”  
“Why not?”  
“Gwen.” She warns, as if the other woman should know why.  
“Mildred.” She fake gasps. “Lie down, don’t sleep if you don’t want to. Just lie down. Rest.”  
“Shouldn’t you be the one resting?”  
“I can rest when I die.” She shrugs.  
“Don’t.” Her back goes ramrod straight, “Don’t you say _that_.”  
“Mildred.”  
“I will not have you die on me Gwendolyn Briggs,” Mildred commands, transforming back into Nurse Ratched, her voice becoming firm and familiar and so drastically unlike the Mildred she’d held in her arms. “Do you understand that? We are finding you a Doctor and we are going to fix this.”  
“You can’t fix everything Mildred.”  
“Try me.” Her brown eyes go almost black, her lips set, and Gwen is reminded of the other side of the woman she loves. Dangerous, determined, cunning and clever.  
“Lie down,” Gwen changes the topic, “Lie down, and I’ll see whatever Doctor you want me to.”  
“Do you promise?”  
“Absolutely.”  
“Fine then.” She raises her legs gingerly to her side and rests her head in Gwen’s lap. “See how persuasive I can be?”  
“Yes, my love.” Gwen smiles down at her before taking a sip of coffee. She places her hand lightly on Mildred’s head and softly strokes her hair, or what little of it she can reach without mussing it up from its tightly regimented hair do. “What did you want to do today? We can go to the movies, or we can drive down the coast? We can do anything you want.”  
“Could we… Stay here?” Mildred asks, her voice soft. “I just…”  
“Darling, yes, we can stay here. We can stay just like this if that’s what you’d like. We can just lay out here until the sun sets and the moon rises.”  
“Well no, we can’t. We’d both burn.”  
“So practical you are.”  
“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”  
“And I don’t ever want you to.”

A moment passes.

“What about your husband?” Mildred asks, raising a hand and silently undoing her hair pins.  
“He can stay with his friend.”  
“A friend like Huck’s my friend? Or a friend like you’re my friend?”  
“Like you’re my friend.” Gwen admits, before her fingers wind their way through Mildred’s loosened hair. She begins to press little circles with her fingertips firmly on her scalp, the way only someone who’s had to pin her hair for hours at a time knows how to do, the pleasure it brings. “Oh.” Mildred says, but neither of them are certain if it’s for the revelation, or for the sensations Gwen’s touch are bringing to her. “The world is very different than I thought.” She pauses, “He’s very handsome.”  
“Trevor? Yes, he’s a dream, but he’s no Mildred Ratched.”  
“Stop it, you’re teasing.” Mildred turns on her back to look up at Gwen, who, backlit by the sun looks like a Goddess, like an Avenging Angel. “I am not.” She smiles down, before bending down and placing a soft kiss on the other woman’s lips.

They stay like that for a time, silent but satisfied just to be with each other, but Mildred was correct and they were both far too fair to sit out too long. Eventually, they rise, slow and sleepy, and gather their coffee cups and make their way inside. Gwen begins to wash the cups when she finds herself wrapped up in Mildred’s arms from behind. “I’m sorry.” Mildred whispers as she holds her tighter, resting her chin on the other woman’s shoulder. “Darling,” Gwen turns off the water and turns around, hugging the other woman to her, her wet hands seeping through the silk blouse, “Why are you sorry?”  
“I don’t know. I’m just so sorry it took me so long to get here. For keeping you waiting.”  
“Darling, darling.” Gwen pulls back, “You’re here. You’re here with me and that’s all that matters, do you understand that?”  
“But I wasted so much time. Time we should’ve had together.”  
“Aren’t we going to the Doctor’s? And aren’t we going to find a cure?” Gwen asks, “I promised you, didn’t I? And you may not know this, but I always keep my promises.”  
“Do you?”  
“I do. So,” She places a chaste kiss on the other woman’s lips, “No more ‘I’m sorry’s, understood?”  
“Yes ma’am.” Mildred mock salutes.  
“Now, are you hungry? Have you eaten? I’m afraid we don’t have any bologna, but I’m sure I can manage to scare us up some lunch.”  
“I don’t think I care for your teasing about it. It’s absolutely one of my favourite foods. If it came from Italy, or one of those foreign places, I’m sure you’d eat it.”  
“You’re right, I would.” Gwen grins, “What can I say? I’m pretentious.”  
“You’re perfect.”  
“No, that’s you.” Gwen slips her hand into the other woman’s. “Shall I show you around?”  
“Yes, that would be nice.” 

Hand in hand, they set off to explore the house. Gwen’s heart grows, seeing everything familiar through Mildred’s fresh eyes. “This is the office.” She begins, they both poke their heads into the well appointed room, “So many books,” the other woman murmurs, “Yeah, Trevor and I are both compulsive readers.”  
“Compulsive?” Her brow raises.  
“Maybe that’s not the right word? Do you like to read?” She asks, watching her companion’s hand glide over the spines of the books sends a shiver down her own and she releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Me? Not particularly. Why read about things that aren’t real?”  
“Why not? Why not read about how things can be?”  
“Which one is your favourite?” Mildred asks, her eyes trying to spot it amongst the hundreds of others. “Ah, it’s not here. It’s upstairs.”  
“Alright then.”  
“Shall we continue?” Neither of them mention the half-packed boxes in the corner. A conversation for another day and another time.

They wander through the formal dining room, the den, and then make their way up the stairs, where Mildred insists on stopping at every photo hanging on the wall - beginning with their baby photos at the foot of the stairs and ending with their wedding photo at the top. She asks Gwen to explain who each person is, her fingers hover over, but are careful to never touch the glass. Gwen speaks, but she isn’t sure if the words make it to Mildred, who seems so far away. She wonders if she has any baby pictures? Any good memories of being a child? Her heart aches - if she knew on an intellectual level how cruel the world had been to Mildred, she is now beginning to understand it on a fundamental level how badly it had tried to break this woman and how incredibly strong she must’ve been to survive it as she did. The other woman squeezes her hand and they continue to move up the stairs. “And these are your parents?” Mildred asks, taking in family portrait, a young Gwen standing stoically between two adults, her father in a Naval uniform. “Yes, before he shipped off.”  
“He has kind eyes. They both do. Were they?”  
“Very much so.”  
“I’m glad.” She turns to other woman and smiles.  
“Mildred, you can talk to me, you know? I love you. I love all of you, and I-” Mildred doesn’t speak, doesn’t know what to say, so she widens her smile and moves up the stairs. “Your wedding picture?” She asks, changing the subject.  
“Yes.” She raises their entwined hands and kisses the other woman’s knuckles. She knows Mildred has had thirty some odd years of defences and she will not get through them in one day, she may never get through them, but she can love her, and be there for her best she can. “It was at City Hall on our lunch breaks, the Governor officiated.”  
“Were you happy?”  
“Absolutely. Trevor and I are as close as two friends can be. And at some point, we realised it was safer and better for the both of us to be married to each other.” She doesn’t miss Mildred’s head shift at the idea of detection.  
“So why are you leaving him?”  
“Because I met you and I … Couldn’t imagine being with anyone who wasn’t you.”  
“Even if I never came to my senses?”  
“Even if you never came to your senses.”  
“That’s ridiculous.” Mildred snaps, unable to comprehend why Gwen would risk herself like that.  
“That’s love.” Gwen responds, standing in front of Mildred, unflinching under her scrutinising gaze. She knows the other woman is searching for an edge, an angle, something to explain Gwen’s devotion to her, but there is none. There is simply one woman in love with another, in spite of every terrible, horrific act she’s done. “What’s up here?” Mildred asks, climbing the last few steps to the top. “To the right is Trevor’s room,” Gwen explains, a quick glance through the open door reveals heavy wood furniture with a few tray ties on the bed, and a smattering of toiletries and tie clips and cufflinks on top of the dresser. “Speaking of, I suppose I should call him. Come on, I’ll show you my room.” She opens the door to the left. “It’s a little smaller than his, but has so much more light in the morning.” She explains, as she watches Mildred step in and take everything in. It’s sparsely decorated, but Gwen is right, the light is pouring in, bathing everything in a soft glow. “Feel free to poke around.” Gwen tells her, as she sits on the edge of the bed and picks up the phone. While she dials the number to Trevor’s office and is put on hold while Mrs. Doggett tries to track him down, she watches Mildred work her way around the room, touching everything in her closet, the top of her dresser. She forgets to breathe as she watches her pick up her perfume and sniff it, and she almost chokes when Mildred turns to look at her as she sprays it onto her neck. “MRS. BRIGGS?!” She snaps back into reality at the voice shouting at her from the other end of the line, “I’m so sorry Mrs. Doggett, you were saying?”  
“Transferring you now.”  
“Thank you.” She shoots a glare at Mildred, who’s smirking in her direction as she reaches the bed and palms the chenille bedspread.  
“Trevor, I just wanted to check in and see if you were planning on getting a drink after dinner tonight? I just had a friend stop by and - yes actually.” Mildred watches as Gwen rolls her eyes, “Yes, fine, you were right. You’re always right. Now go back to work please. Good byyye.” She hangs up the phone and reclines on the bed. “Well, we have the house to ourselves tonight.”  
“Drinks?”  
“His secretary listens in sometimes, so we have a system.”  
“He knows about me?”  
“In the abstract.”  
“I see.”  
“Is that alright?”  
“I don’t know.  
“Trevor and I, we keep each other’s secrets.”  
“And am I your secret?”  
“Not if I had my way.”  
“And what would be your way?”  
“I would shout from the rooftop that I love Mildred Ratched and I always will.”  
“You can’t say that.”  
“Say what? That I love you?”  
“Always. No one can.”  
“I can.” Gwen smirks up at her. “The benefit of knowing you’re going to die.” She pretends not to see the daggers Mildred glares at her, “Join me? I will be a perfect gentlewoman, I promise. Nothing will happen.”  
“What if I want it to?”  
“Join me?” Gwen repeats, watching Mildred fight with herself before laying herself on top of the covers, as far from Gwen as she can be and still be on the bed. “Come here,” With a sigh, Mildred scoots herself over and settles herself in Gwen’s arms. She tries to separate her body from her mind as she’s done with others in the past. She tries not to think about how the bedspread feels under her fingertips, or that she can feel the other woman’s heartbeat, and the rise and fall of her chest. She tries not to feel the twisting in her belly and even below that. She tries not to feel, and she fails. 

She feels everything. 

She feels everything and she hates it. She hates how much she loves it. How much she wants more of it. 

“You’re thinking.”  
“No I’m not.” Mildred lies, moving her fingertips to the valley between Gwen’s neck and shoulder.  
“You’re lying, darling.” Gwen kisses the top of her head. They lay like this for a while, their hands making small, cautious explorations, but never straying too far. Both women are aware they’re on the edge of something. On one side lies safety and on the other lies an abyss. “Do you know why I asked you to lay here with me?” Gwen finally asks.  
“Because you don’t want to…” Her voice dies off. Does she call it intercourse, or fornication, or make love? The name of the act alone confuses her, let alone the specificities. “What? No!” She pushes herself up to look down at the other woman, “Mildred - that’s so far from the truth. I asked you to lay here with me because - well because I’m afraid of what happens if we move too fast. I’m afraid - what if you’re not really ready? What if it’s not what you want or what you imagined? What if I hurt you? Or scare you with how much I want you? How I want you?” She looks down at the other woman’s face and sheepishly shrugs. “Almost since I’d met you, I have imagined you here with me.”  
“You did?”  
“I did, and now, here you are. Saying you love me, and looking beautiful. Your hair is down and you smell like me and God, you don’t know what it does to me to have you here. It doesn’t feel real.”  
“I’m here Gwen and I’m real, and I’m not afraid. Or if I am, it’s not of you. It’s of not knowing what I’m doing, or if I’m doing it right. But I know I that you would never do anything to hurt me, would you?”  
“Never.” Gwen answers, her heart even aching at the possibility.  
“Then I am not going anywhere for the rest of the day, and neither are you. Now, kiss me?”  
“Gladly.” Gwen dips her head down presses her lips against the other woman’s before lowering herself down onto the younger woman. 

They spend the afternoon like this, making out like coeds, their hands mapping every inch they can get to. A palm sliding up the calf, legs hooking to each other, thighs pressed against sensitive spots. Their lips and tongue marking and tasting the back of necks, the crooks of elbows, sternums, and where cotton meets skin, the small of backs, and freshly scarred skin. Mildred pays particular attention to this. She keeps her eyes locked with Gwen’s, daring her to keep her eyes open as she kisses it as she wished she could’ve done weeks ago. Their shirts are shed, tossed somewhere on the floor. They continue, as if they could never get tired of this. In the back of Mildred’s mind, she knows there’s more, she knows she should give her more, do more, let what happened in the motel with Mr. Wainwright happen here, but she’s so happy here, her fingers locked with Gwen’s, her hair wild, her skin peppered with little love bites, evidence of love being lavished upon her. Her mind begins to reel once more about how she shouldn’t be here, she shouldn’t do this, she doesn’t deserve this, she - “Hey, hey, darling.” Gwen rolls them over and sits them up. “What happened?”  
“What do you mean?” Mildred asks, confused. “Did I do something wrong?”  
“No, not at all.”  
“Then why did we stop?”  
“Where did you go just now?”  
“Nowhere. I was with you. Let’s continue.” She pushes, trying to pull the other woman back down.  
“Let’s not Mildred. Talk to me.”  
“No.”  
“I see,” Gwen realises she’s speaking to Nurse Ratched now. “Well I’m going to stop because it’s clear something is wrong. So,” Gwen reaches on the ground for her shirt and begins to slip it on.  
“Fine, stop.” She snipes, her eyes going dead, her arms crossing over her, watching Gwen watch her, before she finally breaks with a quiet “I’m sorry, I’m just not good at this. At talking.”  
“You don’t have to be sorry, I just need you to try.” Gwen palms her cheek gently.  
“I’m not, I mean. I’ve never had to talk to anyone, like this I mean.”  
“You don’t have to, but it helps. I don’t expect you to change overnight, or at all. But part of this,” She shrugs lightly, “Is talking. Is sharing what’s going on inside.” 

A long pause, and then:

“When you said you imagined me here, with you, before - what were we doing?”  
“What were we doing?” Gwen repeats, heart aching at Mildred trying. “Some nights I imagined I had you on your back, that I was doing things I don’t even have words for-” She blushes, but doesn’t look away from Mildred, rather, taking her hand in hers.  
“Really?” She asks, her mouth dry, her body lost in a wave of want.  
“And others,” Gwen continues, “We would share a glass of wine, I would hand you your towel, or your nightgown. I would read and you would be listening to the radio beside me. I don’t know. You were just…always on my mind. Did you ever think about me?”  
“No.” Mildred admits.  
“Well, that’s fine too,” Gwen blush grows deeper with embarrassment.  
“I didn’t know how to.” Mildred explains before continuing, “Once though when I was with Mr. Wainwright, I just wanted you to hear me. I wanted to hurt you-”  
“Don’t worry, you did.” Gwen drops her eyes, locking them onto their hands. “Next time you could try shooting me, it would hurt less.”  
“Stop please.” Mildred commands, her voice brittle once more. “No more of these _jokes_ Gwen. You are not dying, I won’t let you.”  
“No, you won’t, will you?”  
“I’m sorry Gwen, I am.” Mildred uses her free hand to lift the other woman’s face up to look at her. “I’m sorry I did what I did. I just wanted to hurt you so you’d leave me alone. It felt like you were - _everywhere_ and I couldn’t get away.”  
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”  
“I wanted you, Gwen. I wanted you and I want you.” She leans forward and kisses her, “I want you, and I’m also happy right here. That’s what I was thinking about, how much I want you, but how good _this_ feels, if that makes sense?”  
“Then let it feel good, Mildred. I won’t put any pressure on you, but you shouldn’t put any pressure on yourself either. We have all the time in the world,” Neither of them point out the lie. “Does being here with me feel good to you?”  
“It does, yes.” She answers, “You make me feel unlike anything I’ve ever felt.”  
“Good.”  
“So we should continue?”  
“How about,” Gwen looks over to the clock on the bedside table, “We take a break for some supper first? I don’t know about you, but I’ve worked up an appetite and we haven’t eaten all day.”  
“Supper? What time is it?”  
“Six twenty.”  
“Six twenty?” Mildred begins to laugh. “We’ve been acting like this for hours?”  
“Yeah, I guess we have.” She grins at her companion, “Now, can I take you out to dinner? Or would you rather stay in?”  
“Stay in?” She asks, “I don’t want to share you tonight. Tonight you’re mine.”  
“Am I?” Gwen asks, the smile wiped away, the wind knocked out of her by that statement. She is Mildred Ratched’s.  
“You are.” A squeeze of the hand.  
“I’m going to start dinner.” She rises, needing a moment to herself, to bring her heart back under control at the thought. “I warn you, Trevor is the chef in the family, I am merely serviceable.”  
“I’m sure it’ll be delicious. Can I take a minute to freshen up?”  
“Take your time.” Gwen says, leaning over peck her on the cheek before heading out.

Mildred sighs and reaches for her blouse, a button has popped off. She’ll have to repair it before tomorrow, or else she’ll have to borrow one of Gwen’s blouses. The idea of leaving the house in something of Gwen’s thrills her on some level that she’s not sure she knows where or how to begin exploring. She rises and tucks her shirt in, and tries to bring her appearance into some semblance of order, but there’s little she can do other than comb her hair with Gwen’s comb. Gwen’s comb and Gwen’s perfume, and Gwen’s room - and tonight she’ll sleep in Gwen’s bed and Gwen’s arms. How did she get here? She’s looks around, the room washed in dusky shadows, and then she sees it, on the corner of the bedside table, beside the telephone. She wanders over and picks it up, a slim hardback book, but can’t make out the title. She tightens her grip on it and heads down.

“Can I help with anything?” Mildred asks, entering the kitchen.  
“You can enjoy this glass of wine I’ve poured you.” She nods towards the glass of red wine on the table.  
“Anything else?”  
“No, I’ve got it.”  
“I know you have it, but can I help?”  
“I want to treat you. Let me take care of you?”  
“Why though?”  
“Because I wonder if you’ve ever had anyone who did.” She turns away to busy herself with something in a drawer, to give Mildred a moment of privacy in this conversation.  
“Gwen - you don’t have to. I can take care of myself.”  
“And you have beautifully, but please, for tonight, let me?” She turns with a cutting board and knife in hand. From the corner of her eye she sees her struggling, so she softens her face and goes for the kill, “It would make me so happy.”  
“Gwen.” Her heart breaks, “That isn’t fair.” She kisses her lightly before pulling back.  
“I’m in politics, fair isn’t a concept I’m familiar with.” She lies.  
“Can I put on some music?” Mildred asks, spotting the radio, changing the topic.  
“Yes, that would be lovely.”  
“You don’t mind?”  
“Not at all.” Gwen smiles at her as she continues to chop vegetables. “I didn’t take you for a music person.”  
“I’m not usually.”  
“No?”  
“But it seemed…” She blushes, “To fit with everything.” She holds up the book in her hand, “I hope you don’t mind, I saw this on your bedside table. May I read it?”  
“Yeah.” Gwen’s voice changes, almost cracks. “That’s uh, that’s actually my favourite.”  
“Is it?” Mildred runs her fingers over the title. Persuasion. She settles herself at the table and begins to read, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t help but look over the edge of the book at the other woman. She doesn’t feel right sitting while Gwen was cooking, but it seemed to make her happy and that’s enough for her. She can’t even remember the last time someone wanted to take care of her. Who cared about her. Who loved her. She can feel her skin grow hot at the thought of being loved and of loving someone. “What’s going on in that brilliant little mind of yours?”  
“What do you mean?” She slots her finger in the book, but knows it’s meaningless, she’s still on the second page.  
“What are you blushing about? Nothing blush worthy happens until at least page seventy three.” Gwen shrugs at Mildred’s pointed look, “What? I told you that was my favourite book.”  
“I see.”  
“What were you thinking about?”  
“You.”  
“But I’m right here?”  
“You are.” Mildred beams at her, she can’t help it, it pours out of her.  
“And that makes you blush?”  
“One day, Gwendolyn Briggs,” She rises and crosses over to the other woman, taking her face in both hands, “You will believe me when I say I love you.”  
“Oh.”  
“Oh.” She kisses her softly and kindly.  
“Ah,” Gwen swallows the feelings threatening to overwhelm her. “It’s going to take time for me to get used to that. To you.”  
“And we’ll have it.” She doesn’t release Gwen’s face, “We’ll have all the time in the world.” There’s that lie again. “Now, what are we having for dinner?”  
“Well, uh,” She dips her head away and turns around to look at the stove, brushing away a stray tear. “Just a simple pasta and salad if that’s alright?”  
“That’s perfect.”  
“Can you help set the table?”

With the table set and the meal served, both women settle across from each other and gently tap their wine glasses. “This is delicious.”  
“Thanks, it’s just something simple.”  
“Do you like to cook?” Mildred asks, extending her leg under the table until the tip of her shoe brushes up against the other woman’s.  
“I like to eat.” Gwen smiles, shifting her foot so her ankle hooks around the other’s. “Like I said, Trevor took care of most of the cooking, so I suppose I’ll have to ask him to teach me how.”  
“You don’t want me to cook for you?” Mildred asks, gently placing her utensils down, her face going firm, lips set. Gwen has learned, even in just a day, this is Mildred being hurt, Mildred defending herself. She vacillates between being terrifyingly in control and heartbreakingly insecure and Gwen is always torn how to handle it. “I assumed we’d share the cooking.” Gwen counters, trying to keep her heart steady at the thought that this hypothetical future could one day be real. “Do you even like to cook, darling?”  
“I… Don’t know.” Mildred admits, her whole body softening once more, as if the fight has gone out. “I’ve never really done it for someone else. I’ve never had to.” She picks up her fork and knife and takes a bite.  
“Would you like to try?”  
“Would you like me to?”  
“I want you to…do whatever it is you want, Mildred Ratched.” Gwen smiles at her, “You’re brilliant, and determined, and clever, and beautiful and the world is your oyster.”  
“Gwen, you’re too much,” She dips her head and looks away, as if it’s all too much.  
“No such thing. It seems to me you’ve spent so much of your life doing things for others - maybe this time is for you to do something for yourself? Learn what it is you like to do? Maybe we can learn what that is together?”  
“I…would like that.”  
“Yeah?”  
“Yes.”  
“Let’s start with something simple. Do you like it if people call you Millie?”  
“No.” Her voice drops swiftly.  
“Then Mildred it is.” She briefly touches the other woman’s hand with her own. “How about darling?”  
“I like that one.” She warms back up. “Do you mind when I call you Gwen?”  
“Not at all.”  
“Isn’t it funny? How little we actually know each other.”  
“Well then, let’s get to know each other. How do you do?” Gwen holds her hand out to shake Mildred’s hand, “I’m Gwendolyn Briggs, and I must say, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”  
“I’m Mildred Ratched,” Mildred laughs, shaking the other woman’s hand. She fights the urge to tell Gwen how childish this is, how silly this is. But she she’s also incredibly touched by the gesture, and so they continue their meal, gently getting to know each other.

Soon the meal is over, and the dishes are left abandoned in the sink for tomorrow, something that appals Mildred, but that she allows to happen, because as Gwen said, tonight is a special night. They take their wine into the living room and continue to talk about light things, lovely things. Gwen invites Mildred to get the globe from the study and they sit together on the couch, thighs and arms touching, as they spin it, talking about where they’d like to travel, and what routes to take to get there. They listen to records and blush at the slow songs. The evening passes and somehow the air around them grows heavy the more both women get nervous. Fingers grow clumsy against the other woman. Lips hover, but never quite connect. Soon Mildred looks at her watch and sighs. “It’s getting late.”  
“It is.” Gwen agrees.  
“I suppose I should get going?”  
“Oh.” Gwen puts her wine glass down. “I was-”  
“Yes?”  
“Hoping-” God, she doesn’t know why she can’t just say it.  
“Mmmm.” Mildred looks at her with nervous anticipation.  
“That maybe you’d stay the night? If you’d like? We don’t have to do anything, we can just sleep.”  
“Just sleep?” Mildred asks as she watches her hand reaching for Gwen’s.  
“Well, maybe not _just_ sleep.”  
“If you’re sure it’s not an imposition?”  
“No, never.”  
“Well then.” Mildred responds, voice soft, leaning over and placing a soft kiss on her lips. “I think I’m starting to get tired…”  
“You are?” Gwen asks, her voice almost in awe.  
“I am.” Mildred holds her gaze.  
“Oh, well.”  
“Shall we?” Mildred rises and offers her hand to Gwen. Hand in hand, they turn off the stereo, turn off the lights. They don’t worry about the wine glasses, they don’t worry about the globe, or the mess. They make their way up the stairs in the dark, Mildred leading the way. Gwen loves knowing that she knows the way. She loves seeing this woman in her house. She loves this woman, God help her, she does. Mildred squeezes her hand, as if she knows the thoughts running through the other woman’s head, and together they enter the bedroom. Gwen clears her throat and takes charge. She should take charge. She should make Mildred feel comfortable, and safe, and loved. The idea makes her heart leap, as if she’s rediscovering the idea of loving her all over again. She moves to snap on bedside lamp, but is stopped by a gentle touch. “There’s enough light from the window.”  
“Alright. The washroom is just through there if you need. Can I get you something to change into?”  
“Gwen.” Mildred smiles, or at least Gwen thinks she smiles, her face is in the shadows, but she can see her hand move towards her neck. She watches as she undoes first one button, and then another. Gwen takes a breath and blushes, thankful for the dark. She dips her head down, averts her eyes, wanting to give the other woman privacy. “You can look if you’d like. I don’t mind.”  
“You don’t?”  
“No, I think I rather like it.”  
“Oh my darling girl.” Gwen steps closer and helps the other woman ease the blouse off over her shoulder and takes in the sight of the other woman half dressed before her. She knows she’s seen her half dressed just this afternoon, but somehow, in the dark, on the verge of making everything she’s dreamt about come true, it just feels different. It seems real. The air around her lover seems to sparkle and Gwen needs a moment to commit this moment to memory. “Gwen.” Mildred begins, “I feel silly saying this, but we don’t have to - I mean, if you don’t want to. We can -” Her words are cut off by Gwen’s hands on her waist, pulling her close and kissing her firmly. Ever since she saw Mildred Ratched in the Operating Room of the hospital, Gwen had imagined this moment, dreamt of it. It only got worse after she moved into the motel - hearing her with him, knowing what she sounded like, it kept her up at night. It haunted her every time she saw her. She would see her, polished and prim and she could hear her gasps. And now she’s here, it’s Gwen she’s gasping for, Gwen she clings to, Gwen she’s kissing and Gwen she’s rolling her hips agains. The next thing she knows, she’s tumbling back back back and lands on her bed. She stares up at Mildred, who stands above her like an old testament Angel, staring down at her. “Your clothes please.” Mildred demands, and Gwen scrambles to comply, watching her lover as she removes her own skirt and pantyhose. “Gwen, I,” She stops, “I have to, you just have to -”  
“I know.” Gwen kneels on the bed and meets the other woman’s gaze head on, she leans her forehead to the other woman’s and continues, “You set the pace, and we’ll go from there.”  
“I’m sorry,” She whispers, “II need you, but I also need…” She doesn’t know why she has to be in charge right now. It’s so incredibly exhausting. It’s so hard. All she wants to do is let go, let go of everything, for this woman but if she does… No. She feels herself freezing, hardening up, shutting down. “I know, Mildred.” Gwen repeats firmly, running her hand through the woman’s hair, reassuring her. Even in the dark, she can see Mildred’s walls slowly creep back up and she would trade what little was left of her life to make the other woman feel safe, feel loved. “I know, and I am here. And you are here. Where are you?”  
“Here with you.”  
“That’s right, you’re here with me, and as long as I am breathing, I will keep you safe, darling girl. I love you.”  
“Then I guess I have no choice but to keep you breathing.”  
“If anyone can find a way, it’s you.”

Their whispered words give way to actions - to kisses, to gasps, to moans. Directions - there, slower, more, more, more. 

Sighs. 

Cries interrupted by kisses. 

Whimpers in the pillow, in their lover’s hair, against their fist and then finally ringing out into the empty house.

And then sleep.  


* * *

  
Mildred wakes first, the room bathed in watery blue light. She didn’t sleep well, but then again, she rarely did. Between her shifts and the hospital and a variety of other recreational activities, she slept only when she had to, only when her body collapsed. As romantic as it sounds to fall asleep in the arms of her lover, Mildred suspects it will take time to get used to the idea. To get used to Gwen. The idea warms her though, despite the pre-dawn chill. She turns carefully, slowly, as to not wake the other woman. Last night was different, and new. It was…new, but nice. She can’t help but smile to herself. She didn’t know it could be nice. She knew it could be hard, or rough, or urgent, but she never knew it could be like that. That it could be…nice. She wishes she had another word for it, but she doesn’t. Delicious maybe? Decadent perhaps? She doesn’t know. Not knowing something normally scares her, but right now Mildred has never felt safer. Feeling bolder, she looks at the woman beside her - Gwen is lying on her stomach, her clothes long abandoned, leaving her back bare with skin so soft Mildred can’t help but run a finger along her spine. She suspects she will find it hard not to touch her all the time, constantly, always. “Mmmmmm.” She freezes upon hearing Gwen’s moan. “No, don’t stop.” Gwen rolls over and stretches before she smiles up at the other woman. “Good morning.”  
“Good morning. Did I wake you? I tried to be quiet.” Mildred’s hand continues its exploration, lightly running up and down the column of Gwen’s neck, down her sternum, all the way to where the sheet covered her. “I could hear your mind working away.”  
“I’ll try to think more quietly next time.”  
“Hmmm.” Gwen looks up at Mildred, staring at her with wonder, still not certain if this whole thing is all a dream. As resolute as Mildred was to avoid a romantic relationship with her earlier, that’s how resolute it seems she has become in her drive to pursue one. Gwen could hear it in her brittle ‘why?’ when she rebuffed her, she could see it in the defiant determination that burned behind her eyes as Mildred clasped her hands on her face, and she could feel it in her kiss. 

That kiss. 

She can feel it now. 

The air is still around them but she can hear a hum, like the sound of dead air over the radio.

She can see the look on Mildred’s face change, harden once more. “Darling?” She asks, following the other woman’s gaze down to her chest. “Oh. That. You’ll get used to it.” The scar beneath her left breast. Or perhaps it was the breast itself. It looked absolutely ordinary to Gwen, until the Doctor showed her the x-ray, until she felt it for herself in the car after the appointment. Mildred hovers her hand over the skin and then gently places her palm upon the breast. She half expects to feel the sticky blood pumping out of her, but she doesn’t. “You could’ve died because of them. Because of me.”  
“Because of them, because of you, I found out.” Gwen places her hand over her lover’s. “Because of what happened, you…” The thought dies off.  
“I?”  
“Let me in. Because of that, here you are, my darling girl.”  
“I like when you call me that.”  
“That’s why I call you that. If I hadn’t gotten shot, we might not have ever made it this far.”  
“Oh, I don’t know. You would’ve managed to find yourself into my heart, one way or another. Perhaps in a less dramatic fashion, but still.” Her grasp tightens slightly and she watches as Gwen’s body reacts. “It feels very much like I don’t know who I am anymore.” She confesses, raising her eyes to Gwen’s.  
“Lucky for you, I know exactly who you are.” Gwen responds, propping herself up to mirror Mildred’s position. “You do?”  
“I do.” Gwen confirms, “You’re Mildred Ratched, one of the most incredible, clever, people I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing.” She watches the other woman beam beneath her gaze, “And you’re my darling girl. All mine.”  
“I am.”  
“You are.”  
“I’ve never been anyone’s before. Not, not like this.”  
“Well your mine now, and I will never give you up.”  
“Never?”  
“Never ever.”

She watches as Mildred digests this information and processes it, she watches the emotions and thoughts play out across her face, and she feels her heart swell in its bony cage. Two weeks ago, all Mildred would allow her to see was her still and stony exterior, a moving picture stepping out of the cinema screen and into her life, now here she was, a real flesh and blood woman in her arm, her hair mussed, her eyes still sleepy, her lips swollen and heart exposed and fragile. And this real woman was hers. 

“What happens next?” Mildred whispers to Gwen.  
“I don’t know, but it’ll be an adventure.”

And so their adventure begins.

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes:  
> a: The dialogue is hella dramatic, waaaay more so than my naturalistic goal, but then again, there’s literally nothing about this show that’s naturalistic, so we’re going with it.  
> b: I def. recycled a line from something else I wrote. Yes, I stole from myself, fight me on it.  
> c: The title is from Mitski’s First Love/Late Spring.  
> d: I haven't written a word in 6 months so I am v rusty, so thanks for reading this far :)


End file.
